


That's Why He Stays

by BignRichKris



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Explosions, Ficlet, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Missing Scene, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BignRichKris/pseuds/BignRichKris
Summary: "This is family.""That's why he stays."After the explosion in 221b.





	That's Why He Stays

**Author's Note:**

> So, depression has been kicking my ass lately, and I've pretty much spent the past few days in bed, reading fic and watching Sherlock on loop.
> 
> I just finished TFP again, and this popped into my head. Not sure if it's any good, but I'll take the fact that I was motivated to actually type it out as a victory, since I have about a dozen fic ideas in mind but absolutely zero energy to do anything about them right now.
> 
> I also haven't forgotten about the "William" sequel, if anyone is still interested in that.
> 
> Not beta'd, not Brit-picked, and typed on my phone. I don't own the story or characters, and any resemblance to any other work of fiction is unintentional.

"This is family."

"That's _why_  he stays."

John could not help the small smile that pulled at just the corner of his lips at the undercurrent of fierce affection in Sherlock's voice, just as Mycroft could not ignore the passionate determination with which his brother spoke.

*****

The explosion was deafening, and it took several painful seconds for John to feel strong enough to shake the ringing from his ears. Violent coughs wracked his body as a shower of debris rained down around him.

Blinking rapidly, he looked around him, taking stock of his injuries and surroundings. Thankfully he did not feel as if he had any severe damage to his head, neck, or back, as his body had started twisting around in unchecked panic almost immediately. His brain finally caught up, and with a painful gasp, his eyes landed on their destination.

_Sherlock_.

John tried to stand, to rush to his friend's side, but his legs would not support his weight. Sparing no second thought to his own condition, he used his upper body strength to crawl towards Sherlock's supine form. Bile rose to John's throat and his heart began beating even faster as he saw a pool of blood forming underneath inky black curls.

In that moment, everything around John disappeared; all of his senses focused on the only thing that mattered with tunnel-like precision.

_Sherlock. Sherlock. SHERLOCK._

The little voice in his head was screaming louder and louder in time with his rapidly increasing pulse. It wasn't until John maneuvered himself into a huddled position over Sherlock's torso that he realized he was actually speaking the name out loud like a prayer.

John's arms felt like they were moving through molasses, his hands seemingly detached from his body as he desperately tried to feel for his friend's pulse. After several torturous seconds, his clumsy fingers finally found purchase against Sherlock's pale ( _sickly pale, oh god too pale, deathly pale_ ) throat, and it was even longer seconds until the sensory feedback traveled from his fingertips to his fogged mind.

_Thump. Th-thump. Th-thump._

A sob shuddered through John's body at the glorious feeling of that strong pulse beating away the evidence of Sherlock's continued existence.

John dared not move his friend's injured body, but he did not remove his fingers from Sherlock's neck. The steady beat was keeping him grounded, keeping him in this moment, and while it was an horrific event that was certain to inspire its own landscape of hellish nightmares, it was a thousand times better than the last time John had witnessed Sherlock's head bleeding onto the pavement.

Hours ( _minutes_?) later, sirens could be heard, and somewhat shaky hands gripped his shoulders.

"The paramedics are here John, you need to let go." Mycroft's voice was soft but urgent in his ear. While John knew he needed to get out of the way, he couldn't make his body respond to the instruction.

"Can you stand?" John would laugh at the concern in Mycroft's voice if he didn't feel like the monster clawing at his intestines would escape his lips instead.

Finally, it was a paramedic that got through to John, but not in an effort to move him; John flinched violently as a pair of hands began to search his body for injuries.

"Christ, can't you see I'm fine?! Help him!", he shouted as he jerked away. He slid himself far enough away from Sherlock to roll himself onto his side and pull his knees toward his chest. He still wasn't registering anything more serious than bone-deep aches throughout his entire body; his medical experience seemed to have been blasted away with the contents of 221b.

"I said I'm _fine_ ", he growled as he attempted to shrug out from underneath another set of hands that had come to rest on his shoulders.

"I'm going to help you try to stand, Doctor Watson, if you would be so kind as to not resist." John chewed at his lower lip self-consciously as he slid his eyes to the left. The glimpse of exhaustion and worry etched in Mycroft's usually haughty features left him feeling chastised. He nodded minutely, succumbing to Mycroft's guidance. John slowly shifted to a kneeling position, fighting against a wave of nausea and dizziness as Mycroft slid his right arm around John's waist and John's left arm around his own shoulders.

When John was on his feet, Mycroft began leading him away from Sherlock and towards a second ambulance. John rocked back on his heels as he attempted to get the elder Holmes to stop moving.

"No, Mycroft, I can't leave him", he said harshly.

Mycroft sighed. "You're no good to him if you don't take care of yourself, Doctor Watson."

"I'll get checked out after I know he's stable. _I can't leave him Mycroft_."

John's piercing blue eyes shone with unshed tears and his voice cracked with barely restrained emotion. Mycroft observed everything John wasn't saying in an instant, and against his better judgement, acquiesced with a curt nod. He turned them back towards where Sherlock, now on top of a backboard and with a brace around his neck, was being loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled towards his waiting ambulance.

John pulled his arm from around Mycroft's shoulders but allowed the government official to continue guiding him as he limped towards the ambulance. A paramedic had already closed one door as John stepped fully away from Mycroft and grabbed hold of the second door.

"I'm sorry sir, you can't stay", the paramedic said quickly, moving to pull the door from John's grasp.

"Allow him to ride with my brother, please", Mycroft said quietly.

"It's family only", the paramedic replied, and John's face fell as he looked to Mycroft.

Mycroft replied with a watery smile. "That's why he stays."


End file.
